


Everything Is Wrong Move Along

by donniedont



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dedue Week (Fire Emblem), Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donniedont/pseuds/donniedont
Summary: It's been several months since Dimitri has passed and Dedue is at a standstill.  Through a thoughtful gift and the return of an old friend, perhaps he can learn how to keep moving forward.  For Dedue Week Day 7 "Future."
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Everything Is Wrong Move Along

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tripledrycap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tripledrycap/gifts).



> Happy Dedue Week! While I have not been able to participate at the level I would like to, I wanted to provide something to celebrate my absolute favorite. I also wanted to make an attempt at changing up aspects of dimidue's paired ending to give Dedue some more autonomy. There's a few people I want to thank/shout out before I begin:
> 
> First, here's some Ashe/Dedue for you, Chris! The framework of the fic is based around the Dedue Week prompt, with one of the kiss prompts you sent me eons ago. I'm not quite sure it's what you were looking for, but I hope you are happy with it!
> 
> Second, thank you so much to Joey for letting me borrow our precious dimidue fankid Daphne for this piece! I love her a whole lot and I hope to show her off in some of our other projects very soon.
> 
> And finally, thank you so much to Zee for taking the time to edit this with such a quick turnaround! Your feedback was incredibly thoughtful and helped me sharpen some characterization.

Dedue stared up at the ceiling, trying to decipher where he was. He was laying on a bed, a blanket carefully draped across him. There was a pillow under his head and when he brought his hand to his chest, he was clearly wearing a nightshirt. 

He slowly sat up, scanning the room before he saw someone slumped in a chair. He felt his chest ache when he realized it was his daughter. Judging by the heavy gold earring resting against her cheek and her hair pulled back in a way reminiscent of her other father’s style during wartime, she had been dressed for royal duties. A coat was draped over her like a blanket, exposing her pantlegs which were caked with mud. 

“Daphne,” he said, his voice hoarse. He wasn’t sure the last time he truly used it at this point.

Daphne slowly opened her eyes and Dedue quickly looked down. She had the same eyes as Dimitri. Most people pointed out how hers were the same shade as Dimitri’s, but Dedue found their similarity in how they always revealed how the two of them truly felt, even if their faces were attempting to invoke something different. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for months. Not since Dimitri passed.

She jumped out of her chair, not even caring that her coat fell to the floor as she ran over and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it tightly before she said, “You promised me you would stop guarding his grave. You  _ promised _ me, Papa.”

Dedue sighed, staring at their hands. Her rings dug into his skin, but after worrying her over everything else, he couldn’t bring himself to add another complication.

“I can not just leave him,” Dedue whispered. There was a point that he thought he could. Dimitri’s illness was a slow growing one that drained him until there was nothing left. As painful as it was, it granted them enough time to prepare Daphne for the throne, for friends to visit to say goodbye, for Dedue to hold his hand until his last rattling breath. But even with preparations being made, Dedue felt a hole open up in him much like the one that caved in his chest when he lost his family the first time.

It was difficult to explain to anyone, specifically Daphne. She was born out of the love he shared with Dimitri, but her presence still couldn’t fill the emptiness he left. She never said that it hurt her, but he didn’t need to look her in the eyes to know how her body carried that sorrow. It wasn’t like she could provide good news to offset it. Every achievement would now be denoted as an event that took place after Dimitri. A moment Dedue had to look to his side and imagine how Dimitri would react, having to cobble together a scenario based on his memories. 

“You don’t have to let go of him. I’m just not up for becoming an orphan, because the only father I have left decided to die of a broken heart.” She let go of his hand briefly to grab her chair. She hastily dragged it toward her before she slid into it. Dimitri and he had made the decision to raise her with little regard toward tradition, a characteristic he prided himself in nurturing in her. Even then, he couldn’t help but feel terrible for the expertly made furniture that just got scuffed up with that motion. She grabbed both his hands this time, her grip just as tight as before.

“You’re a queen. You can’t say such childish things,” he replied.

Dedue refused to look up at her, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “I’m merely human, Papa. Which is, interestingly enough, what you once said would make me a great queen. Don’t contradict me to rationalize your grief.”

“I think I preferred when you hid behind your father’s cape and held my hand whenever you passed by a horse,” Dedue grumbled. 

“Perhaps. But I had to change to become queen. And I would like you to change to be whoever you need to be without Dad around.” She shook their hands back and forth several times before she said, “I wrote a letter to Uncle Ashe asking him to visit. I would have gone myself, but I don’t think I can trust you alone at the moment. I believe you owe him some time together and I miss him deeply myself.”

Dedue shook his head. He tried to look into her eyes and jerked away as if he was staring at the sun. “He can’t see me like this,” he said, “It’s shameful enough that you have to.” 

Daphne let go of his hand to lean back in her chair. She twisted her rings around her fingers, shaking her head. “This is exactly when people need to see you. You are part of the living, Papa. Whether you want to be or not.” She took a deep breath and said, “Wait here. I have something for you.” She dragged her chair back again and got up, turning her head twice and eyeing him suspiciously before she left the room. As if he was in any condition to leave his bed.

She had refused to bring up that she had a claim to Dedue’s bedroom as queen. He was grateful for it. He could at least pretend that he could still smell Dimitri’s scent on the sheets or wander the courtyard and remember the early morning breakfasts they would share together. 

Daphne returned, checking Dedue’s hands before she grabbed one of them. “I spoke with Uncle Ferdinand and he told me about a tradition that he grew up with. It sounded like something that you would appreciate.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a ring, slipping it onto his finger. “It’s a mourning ring. I commissioned it from a jewelry maker in Duscur based on the description he provided me. It features Dad’s initials and his… hair…” She pointed at the oval shape set at the top of the ring. Sure enough, there were strands of gray and blond hair woven together within the shape. Dedue’s fingers ached thinking about how much time it took to lay everything out perfectly. “I wanted to wait to give it to you, but I’m hoping that maybe it will give you a reason to leave his grave. You can have a piece of him with you at all times.”

Dedue studied the ring wordlessly, his mind swirling as he studied it. He brought it toward his lips, pressing a kiss to it. He didn’t realize that he began to cry until Daphne had her sleeve to his cheek, gently dabbing at them. 

Daphne sat on the edge of the bed, unbothered by Dedue’s shuddering gasp and the tears that flowed freely immediately after. 

He could hardly believe that time allowed him to cry so freely, even after years of his youth that he couldn’t. Dimitri never minded the development. He would lay down with Dedue, one arm embracing him while the other helped with wiping away tears and brushing against his hair. Dimitri suggested that his newfound tears were a gift. A sign that he no longer feared falling apart, because he had someone who could put himself together again.

He pulled away from his daughter’s hand, covering his face. He felt the wedding band and the newfound mourning ring against his face and a sob escaped his throat. He felt her hand on his shoulder and he tried to catch his breath. He brought his hands away from his face, trying to catch his breath. 

Someone knocked on the door. Daphne sighed, squeezing his shoulder before she got up. She greeted the person with a distant familiarity before she closed the door, an envelope in her hand. She sat down on the bed again and ripped the envelope open before she said, “It’s from Uncle Ashe. He must have responded to my letter as soon as he received it.” She murmured to herself as she read it, placing the letter down next to her before she said, “It appears that he will be able to visit tomorrow. You may rest today, but you are not to go to Dad’s grave. Understood?”

Dedue was able to take a deep breath. He tried to take in as much air as possible, his shoulders rising in the process. “U-understood,” he whispered.

*

The last time Dedue saw Ashe was at the private funeral for Dimitri. It was a part of Dimitri’s preparations that he insisted on taking place. He wanted to have a memorial for the public to be able to make sense of the loss, but he wanted to make sure that the family he was able to create could come together. Dedue found himself overwhelmed by the entire thing, stunned that he was someone who at one point watched his parents and sister be killed to being in a room so full of loved ones, he could hardly find a place to sit. 

Ashe was patient. He let anyone who came from far away speak with Dedue first, aware that while they did not see each other as much as they would like, he still lived in Fhirdiad, even providing lodging for many of the visitors at the inn he opened up after spending years as a steadfast knight in Dimitri’s court. Toward the end of the festivities, he approached Dedue, asking if he wanted to go outside for some fresh air. Dedue accepted, content to let Ashe lead him around the palace as if he was the one who had called it home for over two decades.

They walked around in silence, Ashe occasionally telling him about his inn. He spoke of the successful dishes he was able to create, colorful guests, and how much genuine enjoyment he got out of working with his little sister. Dedue nodded, unable to say anything, but trying his best to listen until he understood that it wasn’t really the point. He let Ashe’s voice wash over him, worried that he was leaning too much against Ashe until he realized that Ashe was not buckling under his weight. 

They returned to the room as people began to leave, Ashe staying at his side for every tearful goodbye until the room was empty. Daphne invited him to stay for the night, but he turned it down, saying that he needed time alone to grieve. Dedue didn’t question it, waiting until Daphne returned to her bed chambers to visit Dimitri’s grave, the freshly upturned earth soft under his feet.

Now Ashe was returning and Dedue felt that he was emotionally unchanged. He never stopped waking up in the morning, getting out of bed, getting dressed, and going through his day. But even if he wasn’t physically there, his mind was at Dimitri’s grave. The ground had flattened, grass growing as best as it could even if it had to fight against Dedue’s weight against it. 

Dedue stared at the ring Daphne got him, twisting it to read off Dimitri’s initials. Daphne made him wait at the entrance, leaving him in charge of hosting Ashe while she went to the throne room to allow community members to air their grievances. He wondered if she placed him in such a public place to prevent him from wandering off. He chatted idly with the guards, several of them saying that he was looking better. He nodded politely, unable to bring himself to put the charade on further than that.

Ashe arrived later on in the morning, his horse taken to the stables before he saw Dedue at the entrance. His eyes lit up as he walked faster, waving and smiling the entire way. In that moment Dedue realized how much and how little time had passed. The two of them had their fair share of tragedy so young, it felt like they had lived many lives. Dedue certainly felt that way, able to provide demarcations based on each tragedy that befell him and the tenuous structure he had of a family. Ashe was similar, even if his pain and grasp of family was drastically different. 

They had both lived on this planet for nearly half a century. Daphne would gently tease him and say he was an old man, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he still had potentially so much life left. There was work to be done, though perhaps there always would be. 

Ashe made it to him, embracing him without hesitation. Ashe pulled away, inspecting his face. “It’s been too long. I should have visited sooner. It’s ridiculous that I had to have the  _ Queen of Fódlan _ personally invite me to see an old friend.”

“She is your niece,” he pointed out and suddenly he wondered when he began to be the one to tell others to drop formalities. “And she is looking out for her father. Who has unfortunately neglected to reach out to the people dear to him.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you,” Ashe said. “I… I’m certain that if I didn’t have an inn to run I would have fallen apart far more times than I have.”

They fell to silence as Dedue went through the motions of getting the supplies for tea. He contemplated where they could meet, deciding that he felt the most comfortable in his private courtyard. Ashe did not question the decision, making his way through the bedroom with no comment about how one of Dimitri’s jackets was still hanging on the back of a chair and his nightstand relatively untouched. Ashe was polite, only cutting ahead to open up the doors for Dedue, breathing in the fresh air when they entered the courtyard.

They sat down as Dedue prepared tea. Ashe knew better than to question him this late in life. While there were certainly habits that were difficult for Dedue to shake from his years working as a vassal, he couldn’t deny that he found calm in routines like this. He made sure to pass honey to Ashe, knowing he preferred his tea far sweeter than most and Ashe prepared his cup, taking a sip and thanking him.

Even with the lines that folded into his forehead, hugging his eyes, bracketing his mouth, Dedue couldn’t help but see a boyishness to Ashe. His eyes were still wide and curious, his freckles seeming to spread across his face as time went on. He had chef’s hands now, his skin peppered with burns and accidental knife cuts. 

It would be naive to say that they were able to walk away from their lives as fighters. They experienced their fair share of late night conversations, typically with Dimitri’s head in Dedue’s lap as they reflected on the ways that war had changed them. How it had hardened them in ways that they could never quite shake off, but how grateful they were that Daphne and the other children the Blue Lions raised would never know. 

Ashe murmured, “Oh, this is perfectly brewed.” He smiled before he added, “As always.”

“Thank you,” Dedue said. He twisted the mourning ring on his finger.

“I found some letters a few days ago. From Dimitri,” Ashe said. He smiled. “They were silly little things. It was from the time you all traveled to Almyra and Daphne got to learn how to ride a wyvern.”

Dedue smiled, the memory coming to him easily. Daphne was twelve years old at the time. They were visiting Claude, a yearly trip that was always on record for diplomacy purposes, but was in actuality a reunion between old friends. 

“She cried until she finally got into the air,” Dedue said, “Though I suppose that is somewhat typical for her.”

Ashe nodded. “Dimitri said the exact same thing,” he replied. “I brought them if you would like to read them.”

“Perhaps later,” Dedue replied. He wasn’t ready to cry just yet. “Dimitri loved writing letters to you. You’ve always been so invested in us. It meant… it means… the world to me. And I know it meant the world to him.” 

“Of course I am!” Ashe exclaimed, “I know I’m no longer a knight, but my love still runs deep.”

Dedue froze, the word “love” echoing in his ears. He never quite understood the depth of his feelings toward Ashe. In many ways, it didn’t quite feel relevant. His heart was with Dimitri before he even knew it could be. A relationship forged in the fire and blood of tragedy that grew into a beautiful love that sustained them for decades. But there were moments before their love could be rooted that Ashe and Dedue looked into each other’s eyes, their hands brushed against each other, their voices trailed off and Dedue knew they could have attempted to love each other in their own way.

A selfish part of him wished that they did, if only because he would not be as hollowed out as he was in this moment. But he knew better than to question every injustice in his life. There were too many to overanalyze why so many unique tragedies befell him. 

Dedue began to slip the mourning ring up and down on his finger, catching it on his knuckle. He bent his finger against it, feeling it ache. 

“May I see?” Ashe asked, “Daphne told me when she commissioned that.”

Dedue tentatively brought his hand toward Ashe’s. Ashe’s touch was gentle as he brought Dedue’s hand toward him, studying the ring. Dedue didn’t realize how much he missed someone’s touch, his hand gripping Ashe’s greediy. Ashe tilted his hand to look at the ring at all angles, eventually bringing his and Dedue’s hands down, uninterested in parting them. Dedue gripped his hand tightly.

“You should show me around. I would like to see Ingrid, if she is available,” Ashe said, his hand still tightly grasped the entire time.

“I’m positive that she will drop whatever she is doing to see you,” Dedue replied.

Ashe smiled. “I should invite you all to the inn. I think I’ve finally perfected the spice rub for that beef dish I was telling you about. Though I’m not sure I can consider it perfected unless I have your approval.”

Dedue slipped his fingers between Ashe’s and adjusted his grasp. Ashe joined him, squeezing his hand back. He couldn’t recall a time that he ever did something so intimate with Ashe, but it comforted him in a way that he didn’t expect.

They resumed drinking their tea, their fingers laced together. There was a drumming in Dedue’s mind that reminded him that Dimitri was dead, but there was still an ease that he hadn’t felt in months. He gazed at their hands, watching his ring catch the sunlight. A part of Dimitri was here with them, even if his spirit could not be.

When the pot was emptied Ashe smiled at Dedue, his hand refusing to leave Dedue’s. “Shall we try to find Ingrid?” Ashe asked.

“We should,” Dedue replied. 

Ashe nodded, getting up, but not letting go of his hand. He got up, his hand still holding Dedue’s. He leaned closer to Dedue, the space between them smaller than it had been in years. Dedue looked into his eyes, the only shock going through him that he felt so at ease with this development. Ashe closed the gap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Dedue leaned into the kiss, a sense of relief washing over him that he couldn’t remember since Dimitri died. Ashe made sure to pull away, his hand still held, his eyes concerned. “I’m sorry, I hope that was…” Ashe started.

Dedue nodded. “It was welcomed,” Dedue replied.

Ashe smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Let’s get going!” Ashe said, tugging gently on his arm.

Dedue got up, following Ashe out. He looked down, confirmed that the mourning ring was still on his finger, and he kept moving forward.


End file.
